


Can't Sleep in the City of Neon and Chrome

by PanBoleyn



Series: Made Our Way By Finding What Was Real [5]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 04:06:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanBoleyn/pseuds/PanBoleyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the middle of the final stand with Hardman, Mike gets thrown another of life's little curveballs, and this one sends him reeling. </p><p>Or, High Noon in the Air Force AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

After he hangs up the phone, Mike just sits at his desk for a long moment, stunned. He can’t - this isn’t -

 

_“Jenny? What’s up?”_

 

_“Mike, it’s - it’s Trevor. He… I’m at the hospital, he overdosed and… Oh God, Mike, he didn’t make it. I need you to come down here, please, I can’t… I can’t do this alone.”_

 

Now Mike’s left sitting at his desk, staring at the cubicle wall. He doesn’t - what is he - how - ?

 

He knew Trevor was getting into harder stuff, he and Jenny had been trying to figure out a way to get him into rehab before everything went to hell. But there wasn’t anything, however they looked at it. Not a damn thing, not when Trevor hadn’t wanted to get better, and now…

 

He puts his things in his messenger bag and walks out of the office, hailing a taxi. He’s halfway to the hospital before enough practicality breaks through the haze of shock to remind him that he just walked out of work. He texts Harvey - he says something like sudden emergency, he doesn’t even know if it’s coherent really. But he assumes it’s enough, it’s notification of a kind, and about all he can manage right now.

 

He doesn’t see Jenny until she’s vaulting across the room toward him, and he has to quickly brace himself on a chair before his leg gives out, his other arm wrapping around her waist. “I broke up with him,” Jenny’s whispering into his shoulder. “I broke up with him because he wouldn’t quit, just two days ago, and now… Now…”

 

Mike wants to say it’s not Jenny’s fault, but all he can force out past the lump in his throat is “Shh,” as he strokes his hand over her hair. It isn’t Jenny’s fault, not at all, but all Mike can think about is Trevor calling him two days ago. He hadn’t left a voicemail, and Mike, busy with trying to help Harvey help Jessica, hadn’t gotten back to him yet. He’d just assumed there’d be time.

 

Shouldn’t he, of all people, have known better? Could he have stopped this? Deep down, he knows he couldn’t have, that Trevor would have ended up here regardless if he didn’t stop, but if Mike could have bought some time by just picking up the damn phone… He holds Jenny a little tighter, finally managing to say, “Don’t. You didn’t do this, it’s not your fault.”

 

Jenny doesn’t say anything at all.

 

The doctor interrupts them a moment later, and he’s surprisingly understanding. Mike would have expected some hint of disapproval, maybe, for someone dying the way Trevor did, but if there is the man hides it well. There’s paperwork to fill out, and while Jenny is Trevor’s emergency contact Mike’s long years of knowing him and his memory mean that he actually knows more of the answers than she does. Jenny starts tearing up partway through and Mike gently tugs the clipboard away from her. His own eyes sting, but he manages to keep his vision clear enough to finish filling out the forms.

 

A nurse asks if they want to see him and Jenny pales, lips pressing together as she shakes her head no. Mike thinks about it, but for all he’s seen worse death than the coldly clean bodies of a morgue, he doesn’t think he can face it. So he shakes his head as well, before walking out of the hospital with Jenny. They get into the same cab, but Jenny goes home first, leaving Mike alone as the cab makes its way through New York traffic, and he leans his head against the window. The cool glass sends a chill through him, and it’s like he can’t stop shivering once he’s set off.

 

He stumbles into the apartment, still shaking, and almost collapses onto his couch. Cairo leaps up next to him, small head pressing against his thigh, and Mike pets the kitten absently, finding a weak sort of comfort in not being entirely alone.

 

He drops his head back against the couch, closing his eyes. But then all he can see is a little boy chasing his ball across the street and smiling when Mike hands it back. Trevor is - was - his oldest friend, the boy across the street from Grammy’s house, there no matter where Mike and his parents moved to. The boy who asked his parents to let Mike live with them when the courts almost said Grammy was too old and he’d have to be put in foster care. He can see Trevor in middle school and high school, slinging a friendly arm around Mike’s shoulders and fending off bullies with nasty comments and sometimes his fists. Not that Mike was helpless, but having someone to back him up meant the world.

 

He remembers Trevor sitting next to him in the VA hospital, talking about everything and nothing, or just being quiet. Cheering Mike on as he went through physical therapy to get his leg as close to healed as it would ever be. Remembers the silly green cane Trevor bought him to try and encourage him to use one more.

 

How can he be dead? How?

 

***

 

Harvey talking like everything’s the same, like there’s always another play, is something that, any other day, Mike would appreciate. Their side is down but not yet out, and that would be a good thing. Today, though, Mike just thinks Harvey is a fucking idiot who can’t comprehend that no one always wins. Really, he’s too old not to know better. He laughs, the sound bitter and sarcastic. "Maybe it's time that you just accept that it's over, you lost. Deal with it."

 

“Mike -” Harvey begins, but Mike cuts him off. He doesn’t want to hear it.

 

"No. You live in this delusional world where you think that you could always win, but sometimes you can't. Bad things happen. You have to face the fact that life is going to be this case or this case or this case. Jessica lost! You lost! And there isn't anything that any of us, including the great and powerful Harvey Specter, can do about it!" Mike knows he’s pushing it, but he can’t bring himself to give a shit. Harvey ought to know better.

 

“Go home. Now.” Harvey’s voice is deadly quiet, his eyes are blazing with fury and something else Mike can’t read and doesn’t want to. He thinks about arguing, but if he keeps going he’ll lose his job and he doesn’t think he can stand to lose something else right now. So he grabs his bag and walks out without a word.

 

He doesn’t go home, though. Or he does, just long enough to grab his cane - the green one, the one Trevor bought that Mike never uses because he actually likes it - and then he’s out again. He walks around the city, earbuds in and volume on his iPod turned up, so that even in the middle of New York City crowds he’s alone.

 

He finally has to stop on a bench and sit down, working the ache out of his bad knee as best as he can. They ran around Brooklyn and Manhattan together as kids, he and Trevor, Mike remembers.

 

_“I’m gonna make you a real New Yorker, come on!”_

 

Aside from Mike’s love of the Red Sox - Trevor was a Mets fan so it wasn’t a total disaster - Trevor pretty much had done exactly that. And now Mike’s sitting in the middle of the city that they made theirs, as much as two boys can, and though he knows he’s not really alone (there’s Anya and Bianca, Jules and Isa and Connor and Jaime, there’s Rachel and Harold in their way, and maybe there’s Harvey too, who really knows with him) but he feels like he is.

 

There’s no one left who was there for everything, no one else who knows what it was like.

 

The funeral, the next day, is horrible. Trevor’s parents cut him off when he got deeper into the pot, and it’s clear they never thought it would come to this. They hoped their tough love would bring their son home, but all that happened was they lost him forever. Mike tries to talk to them but he doesn’t know what to say. He’s a lawyer and a bookworm, words are supposed to be his stock in trade, but he can’t seem to find any.

 

Neither of Trevor’s parents can stand to give the eulogy, and Jenny just shakes her head. So though he doesn’t have the words, Mike is the only one left. He stands and goes to the microphone, looking at the tiny gathering of people. Anya’s there, she came for him, he knows, but he can’t look at a friendly face or he’ll break down. He straightens, military posture a safety and a comfort.

 

“Trevor was my oldest friend, we’d known each other most of our lives. I don’t know how to say all the things he meant to me as we grew up, I wish I did. I just know, this isn’t how it was supposed to go.”

 

And, God, that’s pathetic, but what else is there to say?

 

***

 

Mike almost ignores the knock, but even through the pot haze he knows he doesn’t actually want to be alone right now, especially after having broken one of his personal rules. No getting drunk alone, no getting high alone. He doesn’t even keep real beer in his fridge, for fuck’s sake, just the non-alcoholic kind. He’s taken the rule seriously because he knows how easy it could be to fall into a bottle, or a pipe, those nights when he either can’t sleep at all or can’t stay asleep, waking up choking on memories.

 

But Jenny doesn’t smoke up, and who else cares that Trevor’s dead? Anya never liked Trevor, and while Mike knows Bianca’d light a joint with him just to keep him company, she’s got to open the shop tomorrow. Isabel and Jules don’t smoke either, and Jaime’s in Los Angeles. The only work friends he’s got aren’t people he’d feel comfortable asking.

 

So he lights up alone. It's like, like a wake or something, he read about cultures who send off their dead with big parties. Food, alcohol... So Mike sends off Trevor with pot and snack food. It makes sense, somehow. His first joint ever was handed to him by Trevor when they were fourteen, twelve years later the first time Mike gets high alone since the summer after Grammy died is in Trevor’s memory.

 

He’s still expecting it to be one of the girls when he opens the door, which is why he’s stunned to see Harvey. "When I told you to go home, I didn't mean for you to never come back."

 

Mike sighs, leaning against the doorframe. "I had a funeral today. I - Trevor died. He ODed. I know you thought I should drop him, you probably think he deserved what he got, but..."

 

"I know, Mike. Well, I knew one of your friends died. You clearly weren't ready to deal with it, so I kept you busy. Was I wrong?"

 

Mike can't argue with that. "No," he admits. Then Harvey's looking at him a little too carefully, and Mike knows what's coming next. And he doesn't think he cares.

 

"Are you stoned?"

 

"Yep. And I really don't need a lecture so - "

 

Mike stops talking when Harvey pushes his way inside the apartment. "Good, because I'm not interested in giving one." Then he actually picks up the joint and relights it.

 

"Sure, help yourself," Mike scoffs, torn between irritation and shock.

 

"Don't mind if I do." He takes a few drags, then looks at Mike. "Is this the coffee cart guy?" And all Mike can do in response to that one is stare.

 

But, somehow, he feels better. Maybe it’s because he’s not alone, maybe it’s because it’s Harvey - it’s not the pot, he knows that much - but he isn’t going to question any of this too much, in case it ruins it.

 

***

 

Harvey's walking around Mike's apartment poking into things, and Mike's sprawled on the couch, Cairo curled up on his chest. Mike tips his head back to look at Harvey as he finishes off a bag of pretzels. “Seriously? The whole bag? How do you even do that, man? I’ve got like crazy cotton mouth right now.”

 

Harvey’s usual arrogance is different when he’s stoned, but still very much present. “Harvey Specter doesn’t get cotton mouf.”

 

“Cotton ‘mouf’.”

 

“No.”

 

Mike can’t help the laughter. “I guess Harvey Specter does get cotton ‘mouf’.” Harvey looks almost comically frustrated, and Mike has to hold in his laughter a little or he might fall off the couch. As it is, he displaces Cairo, who meows unhappily before jumping to the floor and scampering into the bedroom. That sets them both off laughing even more.

 

“I can’t help it,” Harvey says when he gets his breath back. “These pretzels -”

 

“Are making me thirsty!” they both yell together, collapsing into laughter again. Another day, Mike might comment that he didn't actually know Harvey was a Seinfeld fan, but the pot makes him forget to say it almost as soon as he thinks it. Also, Harvey’s picking up Mike’s suit jacket, left in a heap on the floor, and that distracts him. “Haven’t you ever heard of a hanger?” He looks around like he’s trying to find one, but in the end gives up and tosses it against the front door. Mike huffs, going quiet again as he turns his gaze to the ceiling.

 

"I loved him, you know." The words just spill out, and Mike’s too high and too tired to care.

 

"Trevor?" There's some weird edge to Harvey's voice, one Mike thinks would confuse him even sober. Stoned, he doesn't even try.

 

"Yep." He laughs; can't help it. It’s an old wound that somehow never stopped hurting completely, even after he stopped really loving Trevor there was some part of him that just wished… “I kissed him once, when we got stoned together back in high school. He was cool with it then, but… When we were sober he freaked the fuck out. Then Grammy died and… We weren’t cool again until I was at the Academy. Maybe because I couldn’t pounce on him in a letter. And the thing was, after she died he was all I had, and I didn’t even have him. I never had him the same way again, and it was my fault. My fault I was alone.”

 

And, God, he didn’t think he was still this bitter, especially when it’s not Trevor he’s in love with now… Mike closes his eyes, doesn’t look at Harvey, because if he does his face might show all the things Harvey can’t ever know.

 

He hears footsteps, and opens his eyes to find Harvey perching on the arm of the couch. “Love’s a bitch sometimes, kid,” he says, hand resting on Mike’s ankle like he’s trying to be comforting or something. Mike feels the touch like it’s much less innocent, and wills himself not to think about it, to focus on the story Harvey’s telling. “I ever tell you about my dad?”

 

Mike only just keeps from rolling his eyes. “I think you know the answer to that.”

 

"He was a saxophone player. He sat in with everybody because everybody loved him. He believed in love at first sight. And unfortunately, his first sight was a groupie."

 

"Your mother."

 

"I was sixteen when I caught her cheating. I knew if I told my dad…" He trailed off, the hand not on Mike’s ankle curling into a fist. "The next two years went by, I didn't say a thing and she went right on just making him a fool. Look, all this is just to say, people talk about love, but they forget to tell you it can suck. And… I lived in a house surrounded by family, but I know what it’s like to be totally alone.”

 

The words linger in the room, and then Mike huffs out another laugh. “Wow. Your stoned is depressing. You should never share your feelings ever again.”

 

“It’s a tough league for all of us. Hey, if you’re into guys as much as girls, didn’t that suck back in the day?”

 

Mike shrugs. “Don’t ask, don’t tell, baby. And, Hardman, huh?”

 

Harvey’s silent for longer than Mike would have thought, looking at Mike almost like he’s startled or something. Then he runs a hand through his hair - leaving it a bit messy and Mike’s fingers itch to mess it up even more - and his eyes light up with mischief. “What I wouldn’t give to piss in that bastard’s office.”

 

Mike’s eyebrows shoot up. “Pretty quick off the tongue there.” He’s pulled a lot of pranks - peeing in someone’s space, not one of them.

 

“I’ve done it before,” Harvey says, and at Mike’s questioning look, continues, “To Louis.”

 

“No way.”

 

“Way.” They break into laughter again, but when Mike catches his breath he says, “Wait a minute… If you’ve done that before…

 

“Why not do it again?” Harvey says, with a wicked grin that Mike can’t help but return.

 

***

 

It’s crazy, but the idea Mike and Harvey come up with when they’re high turns out to be exactly true. From there it’s a game of speed chess, trying to prove it before Louis and Hardman can get Harvey kicked out over a drug violation, of all things. Mike thinks he should probably feel guilty, but he doesn’t have time for that. He doesn’t even have time to miss Trevor, and he’s pathetically grateful for that.

 

The bluff of signing his own name to the affidavit is completely insane, but it’s all that he can do. And besides, Mike’s feeling a little insane lately.

 

“Because the evidence doesn't exist," Mike hears Hardman say, and that’s his cue. He walks into the room, holding up his folder.

 

"Actually it does."

 

"This is a partners only meeting." Hardman tells him.

 

"Have Tanner sue me. But in the meantime, I think the rest of the partners are gonna want to see this." Mike says, dropping his file onto the table. "It's a signed affidavit from Lawrence Kemp stating that he told Daniel Hardman about the defects in the CM hood six years ago. May 7th was the date of that meeting, per your calendar to be exact." Mike explains, walking over to Harvey’s side.

 

"You just denied knowing anything about that. Unequivocally. I guess you were just lying to cover up that fact that you're behind this entire suit in the first place." Harvey comments.

 

"Is that the basis of this? A lie from a man trying to say my lawyer made me do it? No way that holds up in court." Hardman scoffed, but something in his dismissive tone fell just a little flat. Mike bites the tip of his tongue to remind himself not to grin. They haven’t won quite yet.

 

"Doesn't have to." Jessica cuts in. "It just has to make these Harvard educated lawyers understand that you made each and every one of them spend a hundred thousand dollars of their own money, to buy you control of my firm."

 

"I think we've heard all we needed to hear." Hardman says, clearly trying to regain control of the meeting. "Harvey has admitted to violating the drug policy. All those in favor of his dismissal." He raises his hand, but only three others do - surprisingly not including Louis, who looks more than a little stricken. Like he’s finally realized just what kind of man he’s been backing. Mike feels a little bad for him - he’s pretty sure Louis only backed Hardman because Hardman made him feel valued. Still not the smartest move, but Mike can kind of see why he did it.

 

After a brief moment of silence Jessica says, "Looks like you lost. I'm glad you brought up the bylaws. Fraudulently, suing your own firm is grounds for firing."

 

"You have no proof of that." Hardman tries one last defense, but it’s like even he knows it’s a long shot.

 

"All those in favor of Daniel Hardman's dismissal." Everyone minus Hardman himself raises a hand, even Louis. Well, Louis kind of half-raises it, but still. And Mike, he just can’t resist.

 

"Hey Harvey, I know I'm not a partner, but do you mind if I…" he whispers.

 

“Go ahead,” Harvey tells him just as quietly. Mike grins and raises his hand as well.

 

Jessica looks at all the hands, then at Hardman. "Daniel. That three million dollars of our money you spent on yourself, consider your partner ship bought out."

 

And that’s that.

 

But it all feels… strangely hollow. Back in Harvey’s office, Mike fills him in on the bluff, makes some quip about looking at a man’s shoes that he got from The Shawshank Redemption (he remembers he saw that the first time with Trevor), and then heads out, leaving Harvey celebrating with Donna and Jessica. He doesn’t feel quite like he belongs, and the heady sense of victory is already gone, leaving him weirdly numb. So when he gets home and Jenny texts to ask if she can come over, he says yes.

 

And when, halfway through the movie they put on so they wouldn’t have to think, they turn to each other and between one breath and the next they’re kissing, Mike doesn’t question it. He’s tired of thinking, of caring, and maybe they both need this. Maybe it’s a betrayal of Trevor, but Trevor’s gone and that doesn’t matter anymore, does it?

 

***

 

They know it’s a mistake right away. It’s Saturday, so Mike doesn’t need to wear a suit; he pulls on an old Harvard t-shirt and Air Force sweats, while Jenny showers and then puts on the clothes she wore yesterday. He offers her breakfast, but she just smiles tightly. “You live over a coffeeshop, Mike, I think I can grab something.”

 

“Yeah. Jen...” God, what is there to say? He slept with his dead friend’s girl; it doesn’t matter that they were split up at the time, or that Mike’s been drawn to Jenny since he met her. He slept with her two days after they buried Trevor. Not to mention he slept with her when he’s in love with someone else.

 

“Don’t, Mike. It can just be that we both needed the comfort, right?” Jenny says, and her smile is real, if shaky. “I’m, uh, remember I said there was a job that I might be able to get in Seattle?”

 

Mike does; she’d been pretty excited about the phone interview. “Yeah. I guess that you’re going to take it?”

 

Jenny nods, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “Yeah. Get out of New York, start fresh. I think it’s the best thing for me. What about you?”

 

Mike shrugs, leaning against his kitchen counter. “Just... back to work. Deal with the fallout from the power struggles that have been going on, get things back to normal. I don’t know, beyond that.”

 

“You loved him too, didn’t you? Trevor, I mean. He never said anything to me about it, but...”

 

Mike considers that. “I did once. Maybe it never really went away completely, I don’t know. But he wasn’t ever gonna give me the kind of love I wanted, back then. So I moved on.”

 

Jenny nods, eyes going distant. Then - “Do you think-?”

 

And no. Mike is not going to let Jenny think that, not for one second. He hesitated before, he won’t now. He crosses the distance between them, ignoring the pain stabbing through his knee - it’s going to be a bad day - to put his hands on her shoulders. “Look at me, Jen. You are not to blame for what happened to Trevor. He was a grown man, and he made his choices. I tried to help him, you tried to help him, and short of hogtying him and shipping him off to rehab, there was nothing else we could do. And if we’d done that, we’d be in jail and he’d have just signed back out anyway. Trust me, I’m a lawyer, I know these things.”

 

Jenny leaves with a light kiss brushed against Mike’s cheek, and he falls back onto the couch, Cairo twining around his ankles. He feels a little lost, a little cut adrift, like he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s really the last one standing.

  
And he doesn’t. But he’s going to have to figure it out, isn’t he?


	2. Persistence of Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they got high together, Mike noticed Harvey was startled by something he said - here's why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to a different fic in this series, but it was pointed out to me that doing it that way left things muddled. So, moving things around a bit.

Time to think is something that’s been in short supply for Harvey lately, but after they defeat Hardman for good, after celebrating with Donna and Jessica - he danced with them for God’s sake, and of course then they danced with each other, laughing at his expression - he has a moment. And he doesn’t actually want it.

 

He knew it. He knew the second Mike walked into that interview that he’d seen him somewhere before. He just hadn’t been able to remember where he knew him from. He does now.

 

_“Don’t ask, don’t tell, baby.”_

 

Jesus Christ. Harvey hadn’t precisely forgotten the young soldier - flyboy - he’d picked up after signing Joy. He’d remembered that the one-night-stand he’d picked up to celebrate that particular coup had been a lot of fun, and that was about it. Also, the cheeky note left for him the next morning where the guy had referred to him as ‘Harvey Dent’. Harvey’d gotten a kick out of that. But he hadn’t quite remembered his face clearly, not nine years later anyway.

 

Now, of course, he can’t forget. And he wonders, remembering how bright Mike’s eyes had been, even in the dim lighting of the club, how he didn’t recognize him immediately. Then again, Mike had also told him his name was Misha that night. Harvey can guess why - probably some kind of extra precaution in the face of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. Still, it explains things a little, right?

 

Normally, this wouldn't be a problem. Harvey's never had to work with a one-night-stand before - he has run across them as classmates and once a mock trial opponent - but he can't imagine it'd be that difficult as long as neither party is inappropriate about it. Mike, with his memory, almost certainly remembered from the start. Harvey didn't have a clue, either from his own memory or Mike's behavior.

 

So he's not worried about that. If it had been anyone else, that would be the end of it. But it's Mike. Mike. The first person to get under his skin in years, someone that he...

 

He cares about Mike, he can admit that to himself at least. He can admit that he wants him, all the more now that he remembers having him. Donna's teased him about his possessiveness regarding his associate, and it's come to a point where it just feels wrong not to have Mike at his side. The two days spent with Mike at home had just felt wrong, same for when he'd given him over to Louis. (In a way that had been worse.)

 

Not having Donna, while she'd been fired, had been just as wrong, but a... different type of wrong. Harvey can't quite put his finger on the difference, but it's there. He's possessive of her too, but he just rolls his eyes fondly if he overhears her talking about a date or flirting. With Mike, he remembers gritting his teeth when he used to see Mike flirting with Rachel. Remembers hating the sight of him with Trevor, even before he knew that Mike was in love with the man.

 

He’s trying not to think too badly of Mike’s friend; the guy’s dead, it’s mostly irrelevant now. But the point remains.

 

He isn’t going to do anything about it, of course. What, exactly, can he do? Mike is his subordinate, and while that’s not officially forbidden at the firm, it’s definitely frowned upon. And it bothers Harvey a little too; he’s taken sexual harassment cases that began exactly the same way, maybe even sometimes with decent intentions. Leaving aside the fact that he’d never pressure Mike into anything, and especially not using the influence of his role as Mike’s boss, even ignoring that he’s pretty sure Mike wouldn’t take it for a minute if he did so, the fact remains that he  _could_. Just because he wouldn’t, that doesn’t change anything.

 

Besides, odds are he and Mike would implode if they ever dated, and then where would they be? Harvey needs Mike working beside him; they’ve become a team and for all he hadn’t wanted to have an associate, now the idea of working solo again permanently doesn’t sit right. So making a move on Mike, even though he suspects it wouldn’t be unwelcome, would be a terrible idea.

 

And there’s Zoe. She’s back in his life, when Harvey had thought that wasn’t ever going to happen. She’s another person on that short list of people who got past his armor since he put it up (or, like Donna and to some degree Jessica and Scottie, weren’t shut out when he did). He might even have a second chance with her; he’d be a fool not to take it.

 

There’s no need for the status quo to change just because he has new information. In fact, there’s reason to make sure everything stays the same. At least, that’s what Harvey is telling himself, and what he’ll continue to tell himself until he’s sure he believes it.


End file.
